


Here in My Garden

by prettyredfox



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: M/M, Superpowers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-10-02 22:54:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10229585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettyredfox/pseuds/prettyredfox
Summary: So, Metahumans are a thing.  And who doesn't want superpowers, right?   Right?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ^^Hi, so thank you whoever decides to read this! I've been fighting with it for a while, despite how much I love the concept. I'm going to have multiple chapters, mostly in Mark's POV, though I will also write in Jack's. Mark is what's known as a Metahuman and while I don't want to give to much away-so's Jack. There's villains and fighting and drama and-shit, maybe romance. I went ahead and put a romance pairing because it seems in my mind they're slowly drifting that way, but it'll be a slow-burn, for sure.

So, Metahumans were a thing. A very strange thing people didn’t know how to deal with and the Media went ballistic over. Not everyone got these new abilities-these powers, and most of the ones that did had something trivial that didn’t really affect them all that much. Like, the ability to blow a snot bubble or blink faster. Most didn’t even realize they had it. 

Mark wouldn’t say he’d been hoping to be a Metahuman, but well, superpowers. How cool would that be? Except for the snot bubble, that would’ve been disgusting. But come on, everyone at some point in their lives had wanted to be a superhero and he was no different. 

So, when he’d received his like a coupon in the mail, he was excited. Sixteen, just a normal teenager living at home with his parents and going to school-planning for college and boring life. He hadn’t really understood the responsibility of it, at first. And yes, he was aware how cliché that was. 

With great power comes great responsibility. Uncle Ben wasn’t wrong. 

It started with small things, so small he didn’t even notice at first. Like, just knowing where his mother had put her car keys or not really being very surprised when there was a pop quiz in class. Trivial things he didn’t spare a second thought towards. But that feeling grew, a gentle knowing that nudged at him until he couldn’t help but notice how weird it was that almost seemed to know what people were going to say before they’d even spoke a word. 

A knowing in the back of his mind that tickled and tickled until it was an itch. A full-grown itch. After the itch came the voices. 

Mark thought he was crazy the first time he started hearing those voices. A soft echo from down the hall, a whisper in his ear while he showered. The voices grew louder still until he knew. He knew what they were. Thoughts. He could hear people’s thoughts, pluck them out of their head like leaves sailing through the air, fallen from the trees of consciousness. And he was excited. Excited because he was special, he had a purpose. 

But there are just somethings you don’t want to hear that way, like why his father was rapidly losing weight or why his mother always looked puffy-eyed and felt sad. “We should tell him.” His mother thought as she stared at Mark one morning while he ate his breakfast. “We should tell him before it gets worse.”

His father walked in the room looking sweaty, even as he shivered, weight loss apparent through the baggier clothes he’d been wearing. And Mark just knew. The word seemed to be lighted up like a neon sign in his dad’s head. 

CANCER. 

Fuck, how could he have not seen it before? He hit the back door running, throwing himself down the porch, mind waging an angry war in his head as he was attacked mentally with his parent’s confusion and worry. Once you know something…ignorance is bliss and all that shit. 

That was the first time he felt resentment towards his powers. And the blows just kept coming after that. 

“What an idiot.” His teacher thought one day after he stumbled his way through answering one of the questions on the board. “He won’t make it far.”

“What a fucking nerd.” The girl he’d had a crush on since the beginning of the school year pondered as he passed her a pencil during class.

“God, he’s so annoying.” One of his close friends observed in the middle of lunch, the thought leaking out as Mark was excitedly describing a video game to everyone at the table.

“Why couldn’t it have been you?” His mother’s voice whispered to him during one of their quiet dinners, his father’s spot at the table sitting empty next to them. 

Give him snot blowing abilities any day. Anything but this constant barrage of ugly thoughts, burying him in insecurity and self-hatred. 

Mark moved out the second he turned eighteen. He loved his mom, but her thoughts since his father’s passing were venomous, hateful. She was weighed down by her grief, drowning in anger and he was her only outlet. He went to live in his new college dorm, studying engineering and he loved it. It was hard, sometimes, but he loved how everything connected-how precise the work was and how much it made sense. 

In the end, the voices drove him out of there, too. 

He tried to ignore them, but as he got older, the voices got louder until he wasn’t sure what thoughts were his own anymore. He couldn’t concentrate. He couldn’t think. He ended up bailing out of college before getting his degree. 

YouTube was a blessing. He could meet people, actually have conversations and not have it ruined by knowing exactly what they really thought about him. And he got to play video games. Which was everything he could ever want in a job, but he was weary. Always weary, because last time he got something he thought he wanted it turned poison.  
Wade was the first friend he met in person. Turned out, they’d lived in Cincinnati together and had gone to the same school. Mark had gone to a party, one that he normally wouldn’t have gone to, but there’d been a problem with his YouTube channel and he was feeling especially shitty. He was thinking about quitting. Finding something else to do with his life, he was only twenty-three. He still had time. Maybe he could do online classes and work some nightmarish retail job until he got his degree. 

That was where Wade came in. 

They talked for a little while on a balcony, the party still thrumming inside. Usually, Mark wouldn’t do this, wouldn’t talk alone with someone, but the voices were blaring inside, pounding louder than the music. He was just considering going home, downing the last of his coke when Wade got this look on his face.  
The thought came fast and loud and he found himself wincing before he even understood the words.

“He’s so smart. And funny. He could be anything he sets his mind out to be.” His head whipped towards the man next to him, taking in Wade’s easy smile. “I want to be like him.” It was the most honest, sincere thing he’d ever heard and it came from his thoughts. 

It’d been years since he’d grinned so big. “Wade, I want to be your friend.” He made a new YouTube channel and worked harder, because if someone like Wade who didn’t know him that well could believe so purely in him, there had to be some reason. He also began to work on shielding his mind, putting up walls or at least padding so he could control his ability better. To help, he began to think of his mind like a garden, a garden full of thoughts in the shape of trees with reaching branches, maturing as he did. Around his garden, he envisioned a tall picket fence fortified with wild ivy and flowers. Occasionally a leaf from someone else’s yard would sail over-it was inevitable, but the mental image helped to stave off the blaring voices. He didn’t want to hide from people anymore. Yes, people thought ugly things. Ugly, hurtful things. But it was worth it to hear the good things. He didn’t want to be alone with just his own thoughts anymore.  
~

 

PAX Panels were the hardest to handle. After the siege of thoughts and emotions beating into him all day, he was exhausted and sometimes even got sick for a few days. But it was worth it. 

“Mark! Oh my god, Mark!”

“You saved my life.”

“You’re amazing. I can never repay you.”

“You’re my hero.”

It was the best experience, despite how draining it was. And then he met Jack. They’d become awesome friends on the internet, collabing together with Bob (another great friend met via internet) and Wade, talking on Skype. Jack lived in Ireland, which was quite a distance from Mark’s place in LA. But they clicked. Jack seemed to get all his jokes and made him laugh like crazy in return. And though they could joke and tease each other, the serious conversations they had were real and stimulating. 

Mark was beyond excited to meet him. And beyond terrified. 

If they met in person and Jack decided he didn’t like him-or if this whole time he’d been just pretending, Mark would know. And he didn’t think he could just go back to being friends if that happened. 

Jack stood out easily enough in the lobby from where he was waiting by a decorative plant, but Mark held himself back, hiding around a corner by the public bathrooms. Where are you? Jack texted, but he waited still. He had to know. If he found out before they met face-to-face, he could cover better. Hide his insecurities, or tone down whatever part of himself Jack didn’t like. 

He closed his eyes and focused, weeding through the other thoughts, brushing away the leaves he didn’t want. Searching. 

“Five more hours and my shift is over.”

“I can’t believe they screwed up my room”-

“She hasn’t texted me back, yet”-

“If I have to waste one more minute in that room with them”-

“Where is he?”

There. He singled the voice out, concentrated on it, hard. 

“Did he change his mind? Did I do something wrong? Should I text him again? No, don’t want to annoy him. God, I’m so fuckin’ nervous. What if I’m too loud? He knows you’re loud, dumbass. But there is a difference between loud in my videos and loud in person. I should tone it down. I’ll be cool and quiet. Please let him like me. Holy shit, I hope we click. Where is he? I’m gonna text him.”

Mark smiled, suddenly aware of how creepy he was being hiding out behind a wall watching his friend. They might not get along as well in person, but it helped knowing Jack was just as nervous as he was to meet and make a good impression. 

“Hey Jack!” Mark called excitedly as he walked across the lobby, grinning big. Jack’s answering grin told him no matter what, this wasn’t a mistake. When they hugged warmly for the first time, a rush of his friend’s emotions flowed through him, all kind and innocent. There was an odd heat, too. Like someone had lit a match in his chest, but it didn’t hurt. 

It stopped when they let go, fading to an echo, and Mark rubbed his palm across his chest. What was that?

“Dude!” Jack laughed, reaching up with shaky fingers to touch the top of Mark’s hair. “You’re hair’s a floofy mess.” They fell into normalcy after that and he forgot about that heated glow in his chest. Well, not quite normalcy. It was better. Realer. The smiles came faster and they could reach out and touch one another with a hand on the shoulder or a teasing poke in the side. 

For the most part, he blocked Jack’s thoughts as well as he could, for privacy’s sake. But it was hard to block everything when they kept so close together and all of Mark’s focus was on talking to him. The voices still leaked through, the occasional leaf sailing over the picket fence into his yard. The first few times, he flinched on reflex, expecting something bad. Every time he was happily surprised. 

“Funny”-

“God, what a nice laugh.”

“Fuck, I want cake. Why am I hungry, I just ate?”

“He’s kind of adorable.”

He flushed bright red, choking on his spit in surprise during the middle of a story. Jack slapped him on the back, laughing at him and he felt that heat again. This time it came with an image. Fire. Warm, red flames that surrounded but didn’t burn or hurt. Protective and comforting instead of furious and hungry. He blinked in surprise, unsure of where the images were coming from. 

Had Jack been in a fire when he was younger? If so, why didn’t the thoughts about fire carry the feeling of pain or loss? 

Before long, it was time to meet up with Wade and Bob and Mark pushed the curiosity back to return to later. The Panel went well, though the flood of emotions-all positive, mostly, and if some weren’t, they were drowned out by the supportive voices-left him feeling dizzy and breathless. He wiped sweat off his brow and smiled at his friends behind stage as they were led out by security. 

“So, that went fairly well, I think!”

“I was so fuckin’ nervous!” Jack laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“You did good!” Wade said. “You were adorable.” He poked at Jack’s shoulder and Jack scrunched his nose up, swatting his hand away. 

“Ass. Don’t patronize me, Wade. I’m not adorable! I’m handsome and manly.”

“You’re too short to be considered manly.”

And so, it began. They started bickering back and forth as they walked around, Mark inevitably dragged into it. Jack and himself were the same height, give or take a hair’s inch and you totally could be manly despite being short. Bob acted exasperated with them, but Mark could feel the fondness and amusement rolling contently off him in comfortable waves. (Bob’s thoughts were like the sea. Unpredictable, incredibly interesting, and strangely terrifying with all that hidden depth. He had a feeling if he let himself, Mark would drown in Bob’s mind, so he was very careful not to let himself get caught in its waves.)

It was a great day. One of the best and he felt so grateful. Considering where he had been before, he was the luckiest person alive having found such an amazing job and even more amazing friends. They all went out to eat and hung out for a while before having to say goodnight and separate to go to their hotel rooms. 

Feeling exhausted, Mark fell into bed and almost immediately passed out. 

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been sleeping when suddenly he was awake, the clock beside his bed telling him it was just a little past two in the morning. He blinked his heavy eyelids, snuffling into his pillow as he listened to the sounds in his room, faintly curious as to what woke him up. Then he felt it. The heat was back, stirring up inside him. It was slightly stronger than before, like heartburn rising in his throat, smoldering him in his bed. 

Huffing, he kicked his blankets off, laying spread eagle in his boxers and T-shirt, trying to strengthen his fence, imagining the vines of ivy growing up the sides thicker, pulling the posts closer together. What was that strange heat? Jack wasn’t even on the same floor as him, could it really be coming from him? 

Eventually, Mark fell back to sleep. He didn’t remember how long he laid awake with that warmth igniting him. He didn’t even remember it very clearly the next morning. But the heat returned. Every time they met after, it came back, every Skype call or text, the echo of the flames was there, licking faintly at the other side of his fence. It was strange, a constant awareness. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ^^ I'm on a role today! Let's see how long the writing streak lasts.

He was at PAX 2016 and everything was going well.  There’d been a few emotional bumps along his way into the new year, but Mark knew how to take a hit and keep on running.  He was doing his normal routine, lying awake in his hotel room, scratching lazily at the heat in his chest and trying to fall back to sleep when the heat became a blaze.  It didn’t burn exactly, but he cried out anyways, curling in on himself.  Fire, pure, white-hot fire ran through his veins, coiled around his organs and it didn’t _hurt_ , but it was a different kind of pain.  Like that severe heat when you first get in a hot tub, sending tingles through you.  So hot it took away his ability to think. 

“Wha-what”-  He panted, pawing at his shirt.  Sweating profusely, he reached for his phone, almost without thinking and hit the call button over Jack’s name.

He didn’t answer the first time.  Mark tried again, refusing to think about how crazy he might sound.  _This heat wasn’t normal_. 

“Mark, I’m a little busy, man.”  Jack answered finally, sounding slightly out of breath. 

“Doing what?”  Mark whined low, still trying to breathe through the flames sucking the air out of his chest.  “What the hell…are you…so fucking hot.”

The line was silent for a moment, filled only with the sound of Jack’s own slightly labored breathing and a distant banging noise. _God, Ew, is he with someone right now?  What the hell did I interrupt?_ “What?  Mark, what are you talking about, man?  You okay?” 

“No.”  He choked out.  “Why, what is with the fucking fire, Jack?  Too hot.  It’s too hot tonight.”  He wasn’t making sense.  He knew he wasn’t, but he couldn’t think right now.  Couldn’t see past the blaze inside him to what his friend was going to think.  Sure, Metahumans happened.  But not everyone liked the thought of them and to find out your friend had psychic powers all along and could read your mind might be bad for their friendship. 

“Mark?  I-how?  How did you-Do you know?”  Jack stuttered.  “I mean, I don’t understand.  Did you have a bad dream or something, man?  Where are you getting this?”

It was too much, burning through him, leaving him tingling and numb all over, warm and heavy.  “I can feel it.”  He sighed out, sinking into himself.  “Can always feel it, but it’s too hot tonight.  Like I’m completely smothered in the flames.” 

Silence again.  “Mark...Mark are you a Metahuman?” 

And no one had ever asked him before.  In fact, no one knew besides himself.  Not a soul.  Sure, he’d run out before his parents had told him about the cancer, but they’d chalked it up to him finally noticing all the signs before him.  And yes, his mother had the occasional thought that he was different.  But she hadn’t let herself believe that he could be a Metahuman.  He liked to believe that before his dad passed away, he’d known somehow, even though Mark had never been able to say the words.  But besides himself, no one knew he could read minds. 

“Yes.”  He heard himself say, almost like he was watching it happen from afar.  “Sorry.”  And he pressed the End Call button before Jack could respond past the sharp intake of air into the receiver. 

He didn’t remember falling asleep, but he did know it was before the heat finally died down. 

~

The second he opened his eyes, he wished he could go back to sleep.  Or just, you know, disappear.  There was a hard banging on his hotel door and his phone had nineteen missed calls-mostly from Jack.  Two from Wade, one from Bob.  He must’ve overslept or something.  Not that he planned to be leaving the room anytime soon.  It’d be fine, wasn’t like he had a panel today.  He could just let himself dissolve into his bed, become one of the many stains that probably already decorated the mattress. 

“Mark!  I know you’re in there!”  Jack called through the door and he flinched, burying his hands in his dyed hair. 

This was shit.  He should just answer.  But he’d heard some of the things that happened to Metahumans.  Hate crimes, abductions, experimentations.  Jack wouldn’t do anything like that.  He knew that.  But what if he told someone?  What if he hated him and was here to yell at him?

“Mark, please!  Please, I just want to talk to you!” 

Mark closed his eyes and focused. 

_“Please, oh god, what if he’s not in there?  Did he leave?  Management said he hadn’t.  What if he snuck out?  Why isn’t he answering?  I fucked everything up.  He’s a Metahuman.  All this time.  But how?  How did he know about me?  What can he do?  Please open, please be here, Mark, please, please, please.”_

He opened his eyes again, breath coming fast, feeling panicked as he shut out Jack’s rambling.  What did this mean?  Jack didn’t feel angry.  Or betrayed.  He felt worried, so fucking worried and upset. 

_There’s one way to find out.  You need to talk to him._

Shit. 

Mark sighed tiredly and sat up.  Everything in him ached like he was hungover.  “I’m coming.”  He called out and the worried shouting stopped.  How long had that been going on?  He was surprised no employees had been called up yet to investigate.  He forced himself to his feet, running a hand over his tired eyes before grabbing his glasses off the nightstand and sliding them on. 

It was a slow walk to the door and he could feel Jack’s patience steadily declining.  “I’m still coming.”  He reassured dryly.  God, he felt like an old man.  Finally, fucking finally, he reached the door and he couldn’t help but look through the peephole first before opening it.  Jack looked as panicked and tired as he felt.

_Well, here goes nothing.  And everything._

He pulled open the door.  They stared at each other in silence, taking each other in.  Jack wore an old, zip-up hoodie thrown over yesterday’s shirt and a beanie covered most of his green hair.  His face was pale and splotchy, his eyes were wide and anxious.  “Are you mad at me?”  Mark asked wearily. 

“Fuck, Mark, no.  I’m not mad at you.”  Jack gasped out, brows furrowed as he shook his head.  “Look, can I come in?  We really shouldn’t talk about anything out here.”

He was right.  Of course, he was right, but Mark wasn’t sure how safe he felt right now locking himself in a room alone with him right now.  How did this go?  How did people usually react when they found out they’ve been friends with a Metahuman?  Maybe he should have tested this out on someone else first. 

Jack’s eyebrows furrowed deeper, this time in hurt.  “Jesus, I won’t hurt you, Mark, if that’s what you’re thinking.  I wouldn’t do that.”

“Fuck.  I know you wouldn’t.”  Mark conceded, feeling guilty.  Jack didn’t have a mean bone in his body-had never done anything to ever purposefully hurt someone and here he was acting afraid of his best friend.  He moved out of the way of the door, motioning Jack inside and closing it behind him. 

More silence, more awkward staring. 

He couldn’t take it anymore; his legs were killing him.  Slowly making his way back to his inviting bed, he ignored Jack’s openly worried face, his friend’s concerned thoughts piling into him.  “I’m fine, Jack.”  He sighed when he’d finally made it, sitting up against the pillows and covering himself with the sheet.  “You should…you should probably sit, too.  I have a feeling this is going to be a long talk.” 

He walked easier than Mark had, but he still swayed a little in exhaustion, eyes closing briefly when he lowered himself onto the bed beside him.  “Yeah, I think you might be right.”  Silence.  Both of them thinking about how to start.  “You said you were a Metahuman.”  Jack said carefully, getting right to the punch. 

Mark swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry.  “Yes.”  He forced out, the word trying to stick in his throat.  “I did say that.”

Jack was staring at the bedspread, a tendon in his jaw twitching as he gritted his teeth.  “Was that…true?  Are you really a Metahuman?”

Here it was.  The final moment.  He could lie.  Mark could end this whole thing right now with a laugh and a slap on the shoulder: _“Got you, man!  You should’ve seen your face!”_ They could forget this whole thing even happened and carry on with their day.  Mark would feel Jack’s relief and pretend like it was all okay.  Back to normal.

But something in Jack’s face told him it would be okay if he told him the truth.  Just like the first time they met. 

“Yes.  I’m really a Metahuman.”  He confirmed.  His voice shook, but he stared unflinchingly at Jack when he looked up from the bed and met his gaze.  “I can read people.  Emotions and…thoughts.”

Jack sucked in a deep breath, mouth open, eyes wide.  “You-you can…”

“I-I try not to invade people’s privacy.”  He cut in, defensively, hands trembling in his lap.  “But, it’s hard.  They just slip in, or if their close, or-or…”

Jack was staring down at his lap again.  Silent.  Dreadfully silent.  Mark focused, timidly trying to catch one of the leaves as they drifted close to his walls.  He caught the brightest, the thought almost as strong as his father’s diagnosis had been.  _“He has to know then.  He has to know I’m a Metahuman, too.”_

 _What?  Holy shit, what?_ He gasped out loud and Jack’s head snapped up, blue eyes suddenly fearful. 

“You heard that.”  Jack accused.

“You’re-you’re a Metahuman, too.”  Mark said and everything was starting to come together.  “The fire?  Are you a pyro?”

“Somewhat.  Though, my flames only burn what I want them to, so don’t go thinking I’m like Drew Barrymore from _Firestarter_.” 

He laughed a little in surprise, taking in Jack’s tense body next to him as he smiled tightly.  Jack was uncomfortable, stiff.  Defensive.  Mark didn’t have to stretch for the emotions pouring out of his friend, they were projected all over him.  Every previously kind feeling Jack had felt for Mark was currently swamped in distrust.  It hurt worse than any hateful thought he’d received in school.  _What’d you expect?  It’s too much.  Who wants to hang around someone who can hear everything private thing that runs through your mind?_  

“Well, uh, I promise not to tell anyone if you don’t.”  Mark said, forcing another laugh, trying to break the tension in the room.  Trying not to think about how much he’d fucked up. 

Jack didn’t even attempt a smile.  He just sat motionless on the bedspread, eyes avoiding Mark like the plague.  Like if he made eye contact Mark would use some kind of Jedi-mind-shit on him and force him to cluck like a chicken.  _“I’ve got to get out of here.”_ Jack thought fiercely, the thought tearing easily over Mark’s defenses. 

Mark flinched hard, feeling himself retreat further back away from the fence, further into his own mind.  _Fuck.  Fuck, I really can’t fix this, can I?_   That desperate thought hurt.  Jack’s extreme uncomfortableness and suspicion seemed to fill the entire hotel room.  “Okay.”  Mark choked out around the heavy despair creeping into him, sorrow curling into his breast like an old lover.  “Well, good talk, I’ll see you later, maybe?  I’m not feeling good, so you and the guys should go explore and have fun.  I’ll just chill here.”  He tried to say it without giving away the fact that he was cracking, one bad thought away from shattering. 

He wasn’t sure if he’d pulled it off or if Jack just wanted out of the room too badly to care.  Either way, he stood up fast, leaping from his spot next to Mark like someone had lit a match under his ass.  He was nodding rapidly, rubbing his palms on his jeans and still determinedly not looking at Mark.  “Yeah.  Yeah, you should do that, you don’t look so good.”

 _How would you know?  You haven’t looked at me since I told you what I was_. 

“Awesome.  That’s just”- _Fucking great.  Really.  No, no don’t worry about me, it’s not like I consider you one of my closest friends or anything._   “Well, have fun.”

Jack was already heading towards the door.  He waved a hand over his shoulder at Mark.  “Oh, defiantly, man!  Hope you feel better.”  It spilled out in a rush as he bustled to the door, unlocking it before pulling it open.  _“You’re such a fucking freak.”_ Though the thought was whispered, it bulldozed its way through everything Mark had worked so hard to build, tearing it down.  Ripping his beautiful garden to shreds, wrenching every fence post up, leaving jagged holes.

If Jack had looked back at Mark he would’ve seen him crumble in on himself, curling into a small ball on the bed as his mind raged.  But he didn’t look back.  He closed the hotel door behind him and left Mark alone with his broken sanctuary. 

He couldn’t move.  Couldn’t do anything but bury himself under the blankets and breathe.  Thinking at all was agony and yet, he could do little else.  It was like a dam had burst and a rush of emotions and thoughts had run him down, engulfing him.  All the wicked things his mother had thought about him pummeled him, beating him down, except that his own mind seemed to be the one screaming the abuse at him. 

_“You’re such a fucking freak.”_

That.  That was a prime example as to why he’d never told anyone about what he could do.  About what he couldn’t stop himself from doing.  Sure, he could block it all he wanted, but this was who he was.  What he was.  A fucking freak.  This wasn’t some character flaw he could fix-this was his genetic makeup or whatever.  He couldn’t change anything.  All he could do was hide it.  _A bang-up job you did on that, dumbass_. 

He wasn’t sure how long he laid under the blankets, but no matter what noise his stomach made or how badly he needed to use the bathroom, he couldn’t seem to move his body. 

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, guys, anyone who gives this a shot-thanks a million. Feedback will be appreciated if you have the time. ;)  
> I suck at summaries-apologies. It's Mark and Jack with superpowers, what's not to like?


End file.
